"Promise? I'll never forgive you if you get my hopes up and dash them."
Of course, if someone's critically in need that day, that's different. They'll need his care. But sending stones exist, so a quick message would be all that's needed.
"My cooking is merely passable, but you can't really mess up a sandwich."
"If there are, I don't know them. And even if I knew them, I might not have the knack. Best I can do is water. What I'm good for is fighting. Destruction, not creation."
She shrugs, sipping more of the wine. "Magic can't do everything. Even if magic can do this or that, you need someone who can cast, and can pull off that particular spell. And then they have to want to help you in the first place, and have the energy for it."
She gestures a little with the cup, settling a bit closer to him.
"So, better to just make the food yourself. Build your house with your own hands. Sew up and bandage wounds so they can heal."
"That, I think we're agreed on," he says less lightly, "I just- I hate the idea of it taking shortcuts. I mean, I know the quality of whatever I do with my own hands, I've practiced those sutures. Some guy back on the bug boat did some healing magic to me-" he swipes a finger over a cut in the shirt that he's visibly mended with some sutures, "and the whole rest of the battle I was worried about it. What if I'd had an allergic reaction? Or it just fixed the skin and I was bleeding underneath?"
Shakes his head.
"You're good at things aside from fighting though, don't forget that, hey? There's more to life than it."
His sincerity is a gold tipped needle, delicately sliding between her ribs. Words she folds up, tucks away in the trunk along with other things like you deserve to feel safe and any other compliments that go past the surface. They don't fit - silk too fine for her, catching on every rough spot of her hands, the bitter sting of the words that want to come out - oh yes, true, I'm also excellent at murder, torture, and anything else atrocious to the condition of living - but she hides that. One day, moments like this will be lost. Best to savor them while they are here.
"I'll believe it when everyone who knew me before now quits acting so surprised when they learn I'm working in administration. As if they expected me to join the enforcers or something like it."
There's definitely some scorn in her voice for the profession. She understands why they're needed, but she wants them far away from her. Instead of dwelling on it, she shakes her head.
"One last remark, and then I'll lay the question of magic aside. They should have asked you first. There was an understanding, in my travels - what we could bear and tend to ourselves, we did, reserving spells for what was needed. A lot can be borne, if you're of the right mindset for it." But if you need to keep pushing onwards, if the enemy is bearing down and you need your arm functional and unbroken, if you need to not be in pain enough to focus and fight? Then it's a necessity. "I'll always be biased, though, same as you will be. Our respective skillsets demand no less. Besides, I've been a firsthand recipient of your work, so there's not a question when it comes to quality."
"That's their problem, not yours. Personally I'm glad you're not working anywhere that I have to worry about you."
He's with her about the enforcers though.
"Yeah, he should've. I know injuries like some people know the names of their own children, and all I had was a scratch. I tell him to lay off and then all of a sudden he gets on my case about being a martyr. You on the other hand- I like talking to you about it because you don't treat me like I'm an idiot. If I met someone from a world without medicine I'd never teach it the way some people here talk about magic."
Takes a long swig of wine.
"And thanks for noticing, but I'm good at surgery too."
It might help that she takes his free hand with hers, drops a kiss on the back of it before deciding to keep it nearby, close to him as she is.
"May I not be in need of your skilled hands that often, but when I am, I'll let you know. At least when I need them in that particular capacity."
It's enough to cover up that strange sentiment she gets for him saying he'd worry about her. There's no need. She's whole and hale, and so is he, and they have each other's company. Nothing to worry about at all - though she knows she can never promise to not be reckless when the need for her combat skills arises.
Hawkeye takes her hand in turn, kissing in the same spot. Doesn't release the hand, just kind of holds it. Nobody knows how good it feels to have something like this and not worry about rings or engagements. It's like a weight he's been used to carrying is just not there anymore.
"They're here for anything else you want them for too. Balloon tying, tire changing, shadow puppets. I'm very versatile."
"Is there anything your hands can't do, before I ask one day and put you in the awkward position of having to say no to me?"
Still there, that feeling in the pit of her stomach. Maybe the wine will seep into her body, dissipate it until it no longer feels present. Strange. But not a feeling she needs to make excuses to run away from, not yet. Just a twist and an ache in her head, a little wince even as she's used to it.
"Thanks for trusting me enough to unburden yourself in my presence. I'm nearly always available to listen, drown sorrows, offer halfway decent to very questionable advice, and so on and so forth."
Whatever else she is, she hasn't lost her touch in that.
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"Town hall won't collapse if you sneak away?" he asks with a grin like he doesn't mind if it does.
"We can make a day of it. Drag out a picnic. If you're playing hookey you may as well do it properly."
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Of course, if someone's critically in need that day, that's different. They'll need his care. But sending stones exist, so a quick message would be all that's needed.
"My cooking is merely passable, but you can't really mess up a sandwich."
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Buddum tish.
"There's no magic spells that can summon food?"
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She shrugs, sipping more of the wine. "Magic can't do everything. Even if magic can do this or that, you need someone who can cast, and can pull off that particular spell. And then they have to want to help you in the first place, and have the energy for it."
She gestures a little with the cup, settling a bit closer to him.
"So, better to just make the food yourself. Build your house with your own hands. Sew up and bandage wounds so they can heal."
no subject
Shakes his head.
"You're good at things aside from fighting though, don't forget that, hey? There's more to life than it."
no subject
"I'll believe it when everyone who knew me before now quits acting so surprised when they learn I'm working in administration. As if they expected me to join the enforcers or something like it."
There's definitely some scorn in her voice for the profession. She understands why they're needed, but she wants them far away from her. Instead of dwelling on it, she shakes her head.
"One last remark, and then I'll lay the question of magic aside. They should have asked you first. There was an understanding, in my travels - what we could bear and tend to ourselves, we did, reserving spells for what was needed. A lot can be borne, if you're of the right mindset for it." But if you need to keep pushing onwards, if the enemy is bearing down and you need your arm functional and unbroken, if you need to not be in pain enough to focus and fight? Then it's a necessity. "I'll always be biased, though, same as you will be. Our respective skillsets demand no less. Besides, I've been a firsthand recipient of your work, so there's not a question when it comes to quality."
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He's with her about the enforcers though.
"Yeah, he should've. I know injuries like some people know the names of their own children, and all I had was a scratch. I tell him to lay off and then all of a sudden he gets on my case about being a martyr. You on the other hand- I like talking to you about it because you don't treat me like I'm an idiot. If I met someone from a world without medicine I'd never teach it the way some people here talk about magic."
Takes a long swig of wine.
"And thanks for noticing, but I'm good at surgery too."
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"May I not be in need of your skilled hands that often, but when I am, I'll let you know. At least when I need them in that particular capacity."
It's enough to cover up that strange sentiment she gets for him saying he'd worry about her. There's no need. She's whole and hale, and so is he, and they have each other's company. Nothing to worry about at all - though she knows she can never promise to not be reckless when the need for her combat skills arises.
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"They're here for anything else you want them for too. Balloon tying, tire changing, shadow puppets. I'm very versatile."
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Still there, that feeling in the pit of her stomach. Maybe the wine will seep into her body, dissipate it until it no longer feels present. Strange. But not a feeling she needs to make excuses to run away from, not yet. Just a twist and an ache in her head, a little wince even as she's used to it.
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He rubs the back of her hand with a thumb.
"Thanks for coming over. It's good to know I can count on you."
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Whatever else she is, she hasn't lost her touch in that.
"Whatever's needed, really."
wrap here?
"Even if I want you to take my mind off it?"
wrap.
She'll draw it out, make him ask and say please. All in the name of being a good friend.